A Present for Christmas
by LaCerise
Summary: Cecilia has a present for Christmas, all nicely wrapped up, neatly tied up, carefully stowed in her pocket. All she needs to do now is give it to the person. Since when was the end the hardest? Gift Fic for darkblaziken


**A Present for Christmas **

**(A surprise gift fic for my lovely intelligent and very absent friend who abandoned me this Christmas for Marshmallow Land, darkblaziken)**

* * *

She sighed quietly as she completed her round around the contingent camp. The little carefully-wrapped parcel, stowed safely in the pocket of her skirt, seemed as though it weighed a thousand tons even though it was clearly a very small, very light package.

_Or is it my heart that feels heavy?_

Rather hesitantly, she embarked on another round around the contingent camp. It was her fourth round, and the contingent camp was not a big one. It merely consisted of many tents pitched haphazardly in an untidy clump, some steady, some wobbling, and others, as she noted with a chuckle, on the verge of falling down, such as Saul's. That flirtatious priest was no doubt terrorizing some unfortunate girl instead of spending time righting his tent.

_Where exactly is he?_

She had scanned all the areas possible, where she anticipated him to be. He was not by the campfire, where many couples, lovers and friends alike, had gathered to exclaim their affectionate well-wishes for one another while huddled by the warmth of the large burning pile of dry logs. She spied many: Dorothy was polishing her bows and arrows, Lalum was doing a happy dance, unaware that her silk sash had been scorched by the fire, Thany was talking to a confounded Dieck about pegasi…but there was no sign of him.

Her heart sank, and she bit her lip as she scanned and scanned the group of people again and again, hoping to see a glimpse of him.

She continued to his tent, the one erected between Prince Mildain's, or rather Elphin's, sky blue tent and General Douglas' nondescript grey tent. Her own tent was only a stone's throw away, a plain purple tent beside Lalum's frilly pink one.

_Could he have returned to his tent and gone to bed early?_ She pondered as she loitered at the entrance of his tent. _Cecilia, you're being foolish! If you want to see him you need to call him out!_

"Sir Percival," she called, feeling a little stupid for talking to a tent. _If he is not inside…that'll be really humiliating for me. _

There was no response from within the tent.

_Maybe he fell asleep. Then I shouldn't disturb him. But what if I was too soft, and he did not hear me? I should try again. _"Sir Percival!" She called, louder this time.

There was stirring, but it didn't come from within the tent.

"Ah, I was wondering who it was." General Douglas' poked his head out from his tent and smiled in a fatherly manner. "Cecilia, you are looking for Percival? That boy just went out in that direction." He pointed to the North, towards the thick bushes and trees. "He might have gone to look for Prince Mil-Elphin, sorry. I saw Elphin walking in that direction with his harp just an hour ago. Why, child, are you looking for Percival?"

She blushed, clenching the fabric of her skirts. "General…I was just…concerned over the disappearance of my fellow Knight General. We do, after all, live in dangerous times. It is only wise to look out for each other."

General Douglas nodded, but looked apprehensive at her explanation. "It's the night before Christmas," he said matter-of-factly.

"I am aware, General," she bowed her head. "You were not expecting any…presents, General?" She had not had the time to hunt for presents, and she did not usually buy presents, all save one.

It was the one that was in her pocket.

General Douglas threw his head back and laughed uproariously. "Oh Cecilia," he smiled benignly. "You young people never cease to amuse me. To answer you, no, I was not expecting presents. There is very little to expect in times as this, but once this is over…" His eyes twinkled. For a moment, she thought that if he dyed his hair and beard white, he would rather resemble Santa Claus.

She bit back a chuckle. "Consider it my debt to you, General. I'll prepare an extra one for you next year."

General Douglas chuckled. "And I'll hold you to your word, Cecilia." He pointed towards the sky. "It's a beautiful night, is it not?" He paused, eyes lingering on the starry night sky. "It is unfortunate, such a night is not to be kept. Before long, it will fade." He looked at her. "You, Cecilia, understand that there are many things in life that will fade too, am I right?"

"Yes, General." Her heart was beating rapidly. _Could he have known? But…how could he know? I…I never told anyone, or showed any signs of it…have I?_

General Douglas chuckled benevolently. "Well then, cherish what you have, Cecilia. Don't wait for it till it is too late. I've always told Percival that, but that chap never seems to listen." He looked up at the sky today. "The night before Christmas…I would say it's a good time, isn't it?"

He smiled knowingly at her florid complexion. "Well, good night, Cecilia. Good luck!" He wriggled back into his tent and promptly disappeared, leaving her standing alone in the darkness, still musing over his fatherly advices.

_Should I? How did he know? Will Sir Percival accept it? How could I even bring myself to say it when I blush at the mere thought of it?_

Very slowly, she made her way to the bushes where General Douglas had pointed and tramped through the thick undergrowth. Before long, she could hear the streams of music drifting through the night sky, a hauntingly beautiful melody with an ethereal evening backdrop.

She walked further and spied Prince Mildain, now Elphin, perched on a smooth large rock, harp under his arm. His pale yellow hair fell softly down his back like finely spun gold, and he wore a serene long-suffering expression that blended well with the evening's tunes.

"Cecilia." He greeted, not even looking up from where he was tuning his harp strings. He bent his head over his instrument in concentration, carefully listening as he plucked at the individual strings. "All done." He said softly with a hint of satisfaction and pride.

Slowly, he ran his hand over the strings, letting the music pour from the strings like the sweetest waterfall. Notes, tunes, melodies…all of it were spun from the depth of the harp with his skilled hands, and blended into the surroundings. He paused in his playing; the music paused in its creating; he continued playing; the music continued flowing. Opening his mouth, he sang:

The night of joy draws to a close,

_Moonlight on the ice, the rivers froze._

_Beyond yonder wishes, beyond the seas,_

_Lies an infinity of dreams, blown by the breeze._

_Catch these dreams, before the sands of time,_

_Swallow the chance and break the rhyme._

_For dreams are butterflies, they land once,_

_Once past, never again will they dance._

_So my lady, my lady, take my heed,_

_Tonight, tonight, done with the deed._

She stood, mesmerized by his voice, hypnotized by his words, struck by the song. It could hardly be so coincidental, and the lyrics of the ballad resounded heavily in her heart, ringing gently.

_For dreams are butterflies, they land once. _She recounted softly. _Once past, never again will they dance._

Did Prince Mildain know as well? It could hardly be that he had chosen this song out of sheer chance.

She looked up, flustered, to see her prince staring dreamily. He was looking at her direction, but his eyes were not on her. It seemed as though he was looking through her, beyond her, at something that mere mortals like her could not see.

"This ballad was penned for Brynhild and Sigurd, two mystical lovers that rouse such admiration within me," he nodded. "It is saddening that they died, unable to love each other, but nonetheless they are inspiring figures for us." He readjusted his harp and looked at her, this time catching her gaze. "If you are looking for General Percival, he is currently by the river."

Nodding at her again, he proceeded to play another tune, livelier this time, but just as melodic and euphonious.

Nodding her thanks, she proceeded deeper into the undergrowth, in search of General Percival.

As Prince Mildain's music grew softer, the vast shimmering body of water became nearer.

Finally, she reached the end and pushed through the last fern.

Everything was beautiful. The lake was serene, misted over by the evening frost. A thin layer of ice had formed on the surface, presenting a perfectly symmetrical mirror image of the mountains that ringed the valley. The full moon hung in the night sky like a large luminous pearl on endless black brocade. Once or twice, she could hear the hoarse cry of an eagle, and the lonely howl of a wolf.

Prince Mildain and General Douglas were right; he was here.

He stood at the edge of the riverbank, far out enough to admire the view completely, but not so far out that he was in danger of falling. The evening wind rustled his short blond hair. His eyes were filled with a silent melancholy and a wistful longing as he gazed at the faraway mountains. His mouth, however, was set in a thin hard line, strict and severe. His dark blue cape billowed from his shoulders majestically, and his carefully polished black armour gleamed under the moonlight. He stood tall, erect and proud; the epitome of a true Etrurian General.

She thought there was no one so noble and dignified as him.

"Cecilia," he said. He had not turned around, and he was still staring at the mountains.

"Percival," she greeted. "How did you know it was I?"

He turned around. "I have long since memorized the sound of your boots, Cecilia," he explained. "They make a very interesting sound against the grass."

"Oh." She felt herself blush. He had noticed her footsteps. Were they very heavy? She certainly hoped not. Most of the time in battle she was atop her horse and thus she scarcely ever trained herself to walk with a dainty and quiet step. She hoped that it did not irk him.

"What brings you here?" He asked curiously. "I was aware that my location was rather well-hidden. Were you looking for me?"

The box suddenly felt _very_ heavy in her pocket. It was almost like she was carrying a bar of gold right there. She hoped it would not tear a hole in her pocket. "Well, I was rather worried for your safety when you failed to appear anywhere after dinner," she said, using the same excuse as she had used with General Douglas. "And out of concern for a fellow comrade I decided to ensure that you were not in danger. Times are changing, and danger is abound, no?"

He nodded. He approved of her mentality. "I agree, Cecilia. I fear that the world has been enveloped by chaos again after our forefathers conquered the evil merely twenty years ago. The responsibility now lies on our shoulders, and a very heavy responsibility it is."

"Are you…" she asked tentatively. "Are you worried about this responsibility?" She personally was. Having suffered a humiliating defeat at the hands of Zephiel, she sometimes doubted her capabilities to continue to lead Etruria.

He sighed deeply. "I worry, for the fate of Elibe, for the prosperity of Etruria, for the lives of the people. I made a wrong decision once, and I deeply regret it. I had very nearly single-handedly killed you and Prince Mildain." He trailed off bitterly.

"Percival, you know neither the prince nor I holds you responsible for that incident," she comforted him. "Many men make wrong decisions once or twice in their lives, and you turned your allegiance immediately after learning the truth. There is no shame in that, only honour and courage!"

He frowned. "I left you in the hands of that twisted Narshen, and I allowed Prince Mildain to be harmed. I am unworthy of your forgiveness. It is too grave a mistake. I was blind, and a fool."

"We forgive you so that you can forgive yourself," she said calmly. "If you want to redeem yourself, lament for the people and strive to rebuild their lives after this is over. You told me before, Percival, if even we, as the Generals of Etruria, lose hope, who would rebuild our country to its former glory? Who would care for our people? Who would keep the peace and prosperity of our nation?"

He looked at her for a long time, as though he was contemplating her words, letting them sink in and touch his inner soul. Finally, he sighed and gave her a radiant smile. "Cecilia, you are a true voice of reason and a pillar of support. I appreciate having you around me. Thank you."

"I have not thanked you either, Percival," she replied. "During the times when I am about to lose faith, you are always the one who will give me the courage and strength to fight on, regardless of the situation and circumstance."

"You flatter me, Cecilia," he smiled, lowering his head. "You laud me as though I have achieved great heights, but I, in truth, am unworthy of your praise."

"I would decide that for myself, Percival," she laughed gently. "If a praise is warranted in my eyes, a praise it will be. Be it for you or anyone else."

He nodded, then turned back to admire the scenery. "Beyond these mountains lie our formerly glorious nation, now in ruins. It would only seem appropriate, on this night, to make a wish, is it not?"

"Have you made yours?" She longed for him to wish about her, and she longed that her wish for him would come true, but they were the Generals of Etruria. In the face of their country's ruined state, it would only be appropriate to save their best wishes for their country. Her hand closed around the small package in her pocket.

"I wished for our country to achieve its former glory, just like the prosperity during its zenith, when the arts and scholarly pursuits flourished. I pray for peace and prosperity in the country, and stability and good lives for the people. Last of all-" He paused abruptly. "It does not matter. What about you, Cecilia?"

"I hope for similar things, that Etruria, after the rebuilding, will attain its former heights of achievement, and that the citizens will have good lives henceforth under a stable and wise leader," she said. She purposely closed her mouth after that, to prevent herself from blurting out her last wish. Mentally, she wondered what his was.

He smiled. "I succumb to fool's hope today. Perhaps my unusual efforts will pay off mystically."

"You do no believe in wishes?" she asked incredulously. How could anyone not believe in wishes and dreams?

He shook his head. "I view them as a guiding light, an aim. But if we were all to depend on wishes, no one will have to suffer anything remotely unpleasant at all. There would not be the story of the Pandora's Box that unleashed all unhappiness and causes of grief in this world. We would not be fighting this war." He paused. "It is late; word has it that Lord Roy plans to begin the trek early tomorrow, despite the intoxicated state of the army. Unwise, but disciplined. I suggest an early night, Cecilia. General Douglas is likely already in his dreams. I intend to wake up early tomorrow before Lalum can come in and do her wake-up dance again, which usually gives General Douglas a heart attack to find his foster-daughter in my tent."

As she looked at his retreating back, she felt a stab of agony. Was she just going to let him leave like this? After all that Prince Mildain and General Douglas had encouraged? After all those time she had waited in vain for him? After all that effort she had taken into planning the perfect gift for him just so that he would look at her and see her, not as a comrade, but as a woman?

_No, I will not let this end like this. _

"Percival!" His name burst from her lips before she could stop herself.

He turned around in surprise. "Cecilia? You have something else you want to discuss?"

She blushed, clutching the folds of her skirt. "Yes-I mean, not quite, well, it's not really something I want to discuss with you-yes I still need to talk to you-"

He arched a fine eyebrow. There was a glint of amusement dancing in his chestnut brown eyes. "Well?"

She fumbled with her skirt, and reached into her pocket with trembling hands. _I can't believe this…if he rejects…it's going to be so embarrassing…_

She took a deep breath and mustered all the courage she had, the remainder of whatever bravery she had left. She held out the small package before her, head lowered so that he wouldn't see her blush. "It's Christmas, so I thought that it would be nice if I prepared a present for you to thank you for encouraging me and taking care of me all this while…" She trailed off. Her face was on the verge of burning and her heart was beating so fast that she could hardly discern the individual heartbeats.

There was an eerie foreboding silence.

_He's going to reject it…_she thought, her heart sinking like a stone. _He doesn't like it…he'll tell me to take it back and chide me for taking time off strategizing to deal with these useless emotional things…_She blinked furiously, trying to keep the tears from falling.

"Cecilia…" His voice sounded odd, unusual. She was not sharp enough to tell what was the difference, but she could certainly tell that there was a difference.

Very slowly, she lifted her head. She was almost fearful, afraid of seeing the stern look on his face and of breaking her heart into little shards.

She gasped.

From the depth of his trouser pocket, he drew a small package, almost identical to hers. It, too, was wrapped, although not so neatly, and tied with a ribbon at the top. She could tell that it had been tied by an amateur hand, but much effort had gone into it.

"I tried my best," he admitted, looking ruefully at his parcel. "But the wrapping paper keeps crumpling at the corners, and the ribbon refuses to keep upright and keeps sliding off at one side."

She wasn't paying attention to his words; neither was she examining the faults in his wrapping. She was staring at the words on the tag of the package, written in his flyaway handwriting.

_Cecilia, I love you._

She choked back a sob. Shaking her head as Percival questioned her anxiously for the source of her tears and sorrow, she took out the tag that she had written, but had been afraid to attach onto the parcel for fear of rejection.

_Percival, I love you._

She wept as she attached the tag onto the present with shaking hands, sobbing uncontrollably. Never in her life had she felt so relieved, so touched, and so happy. Her tears were testimony of her joy.

Her body still shaking from crying, she relaxed as he gathered her in a gentle embrace, his hand stroking her hair comfortingly. He whispered those four words he had written on the tag over and over again to her, wiping away her tearstains. Gathering her in his arms, he picked up the presents, then her in bridal style, before making his way slowly through the words.

"Percival," she said, smiling through her tears. "I'm not upset…I'm just…so happy…" She sniffed. "I love you too."

He nodded and smiled, making his way carefully through the thick undergrowth. They walked past Mildain, who was still singing as he played his harp, seemingly unaware of their presence. They walked out of the woods and back into the clearing, ignoring the stares of everyone else.

Gently, he lifted the flap of her tent and placed her on the soft sleeping bag. "I'll see you tomorrow," he said, planting a kiss on her forehead. "Sleep well, I need to look for somebody."

"It's so late," she yawned. "You could hardly be looking for General Douglas?"

He shook his head. "I'm going to look for that hero, Oujay. I need to beg a favour of him. Now that we are officially together, I cannot have Lalum sneaking into my tent every morning to give me one of her loud wake-up dances, can I? He seems to be the only one who can restrain her."

She laughed. "Lalum…does seem pretty attached to you."

"I think Oujay will give her more of what she needs," he smiled. "Well goodnight Cecilia."

"Wait!" _I still have something for him. And if I don't say it now it'll be too late. _

He turned around. "You have another present for me?"

She laughed. "No, but…Merry Christmas, Percival."

He nodded and smiled. "Merry Christmas Cecilia."

* * *

**Author's Note:**

**And here is another Xmas present I have for another friend, darkblaziken. This is her OTP, sorta, so it would make sense to write this for her, even though technically she deserves like nothing for Xmas for abandoning me in a tropical sauna bathtub while she goes and camps out in Siberia eating marshmallows with peanut butter.**

**Okay, bad combination.**

**Haha, but I think I am beginning to like this pairing as well, more and more in fact! Writing about a pairing does seem to do insane things to you. *Nods.***

**For the part about Mildain and the song, the lovers that he mentioned are actually two figures in Nordic mystology, who were seperated by the twists of fate. Brynhild is a valkyrie, and she was trapped in an enchanted ring of fire until Sigurd recues her. But Sigurd is placed under a curse and forgets Brynhild, marrying another woman due to the enchantment. He is slain by Brynhild's vengeful brothers (according to some versions, suitors according to others) and Brynhild killed herself out of grief at his death. Tragic. The song is meant to refer to that instance when she first met him, when if they had grabbed the chance and stayed together accordingly, perhaps their ending could be a happy one. Their love was fleeting, but deep.**

**Did I mention that Sigurd is the son of Siegmund and Sieglinde, the two siblings-turned-lovers, or rather, Ephraim and Eirika's lance and sword from FE 8? Haha, the FE producers do astound me with their sense of humour sometimes XD**

**Okay, merry XMAS everybody! **

**Love ~ snowylavendermist**


End file.
